


so bad but he does it so well

by greenconverses



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Punk!Percy - Freeform, Smut, Tumblr Prompt, girly!annabeth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 07:57:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4093099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenconverses/pseuds/greenconverses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Percy Jackson has wanted fashionable bookworm Annabeth Chase since he first laid eyes on her in the history seminar they shared together. He's not alone in those fantasies, but that doesn't mean Annabeth won't kill him if he tears one of her dresses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. fantasy

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collection of pieces written over several months inspired by tumblr prompts featuring punk!Percy and girly!Annabeth. I never intended to have this many pieces to their story, but after a while, all the stories became connected and I decided it was time to put them in kinda sorta chronological order for people to read. Will be updated as I write more pieces.
> 
> For some inexplicable reason, this version of Percy/Annabeth constantly hits my smut writing buttons in all the right ways, so these are all either highly suggestive or downright explicit. I'm sure that won't bother any of you at all.

The blonde in the second row is wearing a blue dress today. 

Annabeth’s her name, if he remembers right. Annabeth Chase with gold curls, the ever changing, meticulous wardrobe, and the thick framed glasses she slips on when she’s taking notes during the lecture. Annabeth, always with her hand in the air and with an answer for the professor, and shooting him what she thinks are sly, appraising looks when she thinks he isn’t paying attention. Annabeth, who he’s talked to maybe five times and can’t possibly stop thinking about. 

Stylish bookworms are not usually Percy’s type; have never been his type, actually, not until Annabeth had breezed into the lecture hall that first day of class, all but impeccable in white sun dress covered in cherries and bold red heels. That day, Percy couldn’t stop staring at her — at the elegant line of her neck, the curve of her waist, those long,  _long_  legs under her skirt — and he hadn’t been able to look away ever since. 

Percy has learned relatively little in his history class in the last month, aside from the many different ways he wants to undress Annabeth Chase. 

He wants her pinned against the wall of his apartment, high waisted shorts crumpled around her knees as she keens for him, his hand busy sliding up between her thighs. 

He wants to hear her sighs when he undoes each of the white buttons on the back of her retro purple dress, trailing kisses down each new inch of skin he unveils. Wants to feel her tremble as he rolls those pattern thigh highs down her legs, to know what her best set of lace panties feels like under a swipe of his tongue. 

He wants to brush aside her golden curls and pull down a strap of one of her many sundresses and kiss her shoulder, wants to make her scream with his mouth on her clit, her skirts bunched up around her hips and legs over his shoulders, heels still on her feet. Wants her under him, over him, curled next to him with nothing but a satisfied smile lighting up her face. 

Each day of class brings a new outfit and a new fantasy — she’s yet to repeat an outfit, and Percy’s imagination is ever so willing to keep up her seemingly endless wardrobe, especially whenever her gray eyes turn his way.

Sometimes, it’s just to sneer at the state of his ripped jeans and ironic T-shirt collection, but other days… he’s sure she’s doing some mental undressing of her own, pushing his leather jacket off his shoulders, ripping his shirt over his head, or getting her hand down the front of his best pair of skinny jeans. 

God, wouldn’t that be something. But if Annabeth Chase isn’t his usual type, then punkass Percy Jackson  _definitely_  isn’t hers. She and her blue dress and blonde curls are nothing more than a wishful fantasy, his Tuesday and Thursday diversion, and he would be better served by focusing his thoughts on the lecture and not on how that dress would look on the floor next to his bed. 

 

 

(Though, for the record, her dress would look  _excellent_  there.)


	2. reality

If he tears her dress, she’s going to kill him.

It’s not the most generous thought to have when a boy’s hands are smoothing up her curves and hoisting her up on to counter in his dingy dressing room, but Annabeth has her priorities and protecting her vintage sheath dress from Percy Jackson’s undoubtedly destructive hands is one of them.

He has the look of dress ripper about him – and it’s not just the holes in his jeans and the ratty sleeves of his T-shirt that give him away. He’s spent all night looking at her from the stage like he’s imagined a hundred different ways to get her dress off; she’s positive just undoing the zipper and letting it slip down did not feature prominently in any of those scenarios. His touches are impatient, never lingering, as if he can’t get enough of any one part of her, and turning rougher as the heat between them grows which each kiss, each lustful sigh and needy groan.

Make no mistake, Annabeth wants her dress off too – god, does she ever want to feel his calloused palms on her skin and,  _oh_ , that mouth of his, yes,  _please_  – but it absolutely needs to come off in one piece. Hopefully it’ll also get hung on the back of the chair, not on the floor, which apparently hasn't been cleaned since the bar was built, but she highly doubts it.

“How’d you even get this thing on?” Percy growls, nipping at the shell of her ear as his fingers fumble with the zipper. He slides it down just enough to loosen the top of her dress, so he can pull down the sweetheart neckline and her lacy bra all in one go. Annabeth gasps as her breasts are exposed, nipples tightening the tepid air. “Magic?”

“M-my roommate had to zip me up,” she admits, voice trembling as Percy palms one of her breasts, rolling a thumb over her nipple. “But it’s clearly done it’s jo –  _oooh_!”

Her nails dig into his shoulder and the nape of his neck as Percy dips his head to take her other nipple in his mouth. He is not gentle. He is demanding, pinching her with his fingers, pulling at her with his mouth,  _grazing_ her with his teeth, and Annabeth’s body arches into him, rubbing against the thick press of his thigh between her legs until she’s whimpering and trembling, on the edge of something great and wonderful.

She’s spent more time fantasizing about Percy Jackson than she’s willing to admit, her mind often wandering to him during the history class they share together. She’s beyond thrilled that he’s living up to those fantasies in all the best ways.

“Take it off,” she demands, gulping for air. “Please.”

He ignores her plea, intently focused on her breasts and making sure she feels every second of his mouth on her. Annabeth appreciates this, she does, but her skin is crawling with heat and she has to get this dress off before she combusts. Unsteadily, she reaches back to finish unzipping her dress, but Percy’s hand darts out to stop her.

“No way, princess,” he says huskily, kissing his way up her chest to the curve of her neck. She can’t even be mad at him for the ridiculous nickname, his mouth feels so good. “The dress is staying on.”

“Huh?”

It’s not her most eloquent moment, with her breasts out, cheeks and chest flushed with arousal, and legs wrapped around an irredeemable punk of a man. It draws a chuckle out of him, and he cups her face in his hands before kissing her  _quite_  thoroughly.

“You have  _no_  idea,” Percy murmurs into her mouth, “just how many times I’ve wanted my head under all those skirts of yours, between your thighs, getting you off with my lips and tongue. Not missing my one chance tonight.”

“ _Fu_ _ck_ ,” Annabeth moans, closing her eyes, overwhelmed by the sharp pulse of  _want_ that blazes through her at the image he presents. He  _would_  be a talk dirty. She presses her curves into him and kisses him frantically, feeling his awful smirk spread across her lips.

“You ever have someone do that to you, Annabeth?” he replies when they break apart, his hands already sliding under the hem of her dress, pushing it up the length of her thighs. The ache between her legs pulses mightily each time a new inch of flesh is exposed. “Eat you out with one of your gorgeous dresses bunched up around your hips? Pull that skirt back down and leave you dripping down your thighs for the rest of the day?”

His thumbs dig into the edges of her panties and Annabeth lifts her hips so he can drag them down her legs. She doesn’t think his eyes can get any darker, his expression any more needier, until she shakes her head and says, “No. You’d be the first.”

She barely gets the words out before he’s on his knees in front of her, shoving her back on the counter and spreading her wide. His hands dig into her clothed hips and, distantly, Annabeth thinks she should warn him about his grip on the material and - 

Oh.

Oh, holy  _god_.


	3. wildest dreams

Percy Jackson was a  _cuddler_.

After the night they’d shared, this was last thing Annabeth expected to discover the next morning. She’d believed Percy Jackson to be much too brusque, much too devil may care to curl up with one of his evening conquests; waking with his delightful warm body at her back and his muscled, tattooed arm encircling her waist was a surprise indeed.

She’d half expected to wake up alone, her clothes piled on the edge of the bed, with him awkwardly hiding somewhere in his apartment to avoid seeing her out, like the last boy she’d made the mistake of sleeping with had done. Annabeth was normally not a one night stand type of girl because of moments like that, when she quickly turned into someone’s source of shame once the deed was done and the sun had risen.

Percy Jackson, on the other hand, had always seemed the shameless and possibly insensitive sort from the moment she’d laid eyes on him at the beginning of the semester, which was the reason she’d decided to go home with him in the first place, the weeks of building and escalating sexual tension between them aside.

She’d  _known_  he was the shameless sort once he’d hoisted her up on the vanity in his dressing room, shoved her dress up, and dropped to his knees to eat her out, making her come apart in moments with just his lips and tongue. The  _smug_  shameless sort, if the rakish smirk he’d given her once he’d surfaced from between her trembling thighs was any indication.

Shameless or not, she definitely hadn’t anticipated the  _cuddling_. And yet, here she was, cocooned in his soft blue sheets with his deep, even breaths stirring the fine hairs at the back of her neck, the easy rhythm of it nearly lulling her back into an easy sleep. It was sort of comforting to wake up like this, though Annabeth wouldn’t delude herself into thinking it changed anything between them. Unconscious spooning was no indication that Percy wanted anything from her aside from one night of getting his hands under her skirts, despite whatever her misguided feelings for him would insist.

 _It’s a pity, though_ , Annabeth thought as she stretched languorously, feeling every sore muscle in her body ache in satisfaction.

She wouldn’t mind repeating last night once or twice. Or several times more, actually. She’d assumed — wrongly, oh so  _wrongly_  — that Percy would be more interested in getting himself off than worrying about satisfying his partner. He’d defied her expectations there, too, overwhelmingly so.

He’d been so eager to please her, so desperate to see her come any way he could make her. She remembered every touch of his hands, the skillful caress of his tongue across her skin, the thrill of being filled and stretched and utterly satisfied by his hard length; she flushed, a pleasurable ache developing between her legs as she let the memories and ghost of his touch flood through her. She shifted in his hold, daring to glance at him.

Percy was less sharp and prickly in sleep, the angry lines of his mouth and around his eyes smoothed away into gentle furrows. His dark scruff had thickened slightly over night and his hair was much messier than usual. Annabeth realized, with a heated flush, she’d been the cause of that — she distinctly remembered winding her fingers in his dark locks, urging his mouth harder against her cunt; he’d been mussed and satisfied when he’d surfaced afterward, his chin shiny with her wetness.

She’d been the cause of little bruises littering his neck and collarbone this morning, too. Hungry, desperate groans had escaped him every time she settled her lips on his pulse point; his hands would tighten on her hips and his next thrust would be all that much deeper and harder.

There were faint, pink scratches on his shoulders and probably down his back as well — some of them were hidden by the swirling lines of his tattoos, but enough were visible to deepen Annabeth’s blush. She probably had just as many marks on her body, if not more. For every moment she’d had control, Percy had held it for twice as long and made it incredibly incentive for her just to let him keep it. Good thing scarf season was well under way. Annabeth had a feeling she’d need to wear some for the next few days.

She shifted again, tempted to trace her fingertips over one of those little bruises, but Percy moved too, pulling her into his body, burrowing his face into the crook of her neck as he let out a deep, satisfied sigh. She could feel evidence of his growing morning wood against her hip and her breath caught in her throat. Percy’s right hand settled on her stomach, his calloused tipped fingers beginning to trace smooth patterns over her skin, from the low planes of her abdomen to under the curves of her breasts.

“Percy?” she asked, her voice quiet and rough with the last remnants of sleep. “You awake?”

He grunted, not unattractively, and lifted his head, his green eyes cracking open lethargically. He stared at her for a moment and then blinked, confusion briefly furrowing his brow, like he hadn’t quite remembered why he’d woken up with the prim, poised girl in his history class in his bed.  _Naked_  in his bed, Annabeth amended unnecessarily. Very, very naked and with bedhead to boot.

The confusion disappeared soon enough, replaced by sleepy satisfaction. Annabeth even thought she saw the hint of a smile creeping on his lips before he buried his face against her neck again. He gave no indication that he was embarrassed to be caught spooning her, which caused Annabeth to relax some, pleased that she wouldn’t have to deal with any macho posturing.

“Annabeth,” he said, his husky voice downright sinful this early in the morning. The steady ache between her thighs blossomed into full on desire at the sound; she remembered all too well what erotic desires he’d whispered to her using that voice the night before. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself,” she replied, subtly rubbing her thighs together, hoping to relieve the ache some. “Sleep well?”

“Mhmm. Why are you…” Percy interrupted himself with a long, loud yawn, stretching his arm out to the side and loosening his hold on her. He flopped on to his back and ran his hand over his face, looking a bit more awake now that the yawn was out of his system.

She half expected what he’d say next: why was she still in his bed, still hanging around his apartment? Why hadn’t she left yet? If he was awake, it was much past time for her to leave. But, once again, he surprised her.

“Why are you up so  _early_?” he grumbled, somewhat petulantly. His eyes blatantly traced over her sheet clad form, want already stirring the green depths. “I thought I wore you out somethin’ good last night.”

Annabeth laughed and rolled on to her stomach, propping herself up on her elbow to get a better look at him. He was definitely smiling now, which caused annoying little butterflies to spring to life in her stomach. Damn it. Arousal she could deal with. Butterflies, not so much.

"Looks to me like it was the other way around,” she teased, reaching out to trace the lines of the tattoo on his chest. “Three times was pretty ambitious of you. Almost didn’t think you’d make it.”

Percy raised himself up on his own elbows, and he reached for her, twining his hand in her curls and pulling her on top of him. She didn’t know how he still smelled like ocean under the heavy musk of sex on his skin, but it made her want him all the more.

“Had to make sure you’d stick around for round four,” he murmured, dropping a kiss on the hollow of her throat. “And five… maybe six, too.”

“Seven if we’re lucky?” she joked, though it came out in a breathy sigh. Percy’s hand had found the most delicate spots of her scalp to massage and the sensations his fingers provoked were indecently distracting. “What if I had plans for today, hmm?”

Aside from a date with her drafting table, she hadn’t, though Percy didn’t need to know that. Her designs could certainly wait a few more hours, especially now that Percy’s other hand had cupped her breast, tenderly and plucking at her aching nipple.

“Ditch ‘em,” Percy said. Despite the teasing in his tone, it wasn’t a suggestion. “I’ll make it worthwhile. ‘Specially if you stay through breakfast. I make excellent pancakes.”

“Pancakes?” Annabeth said, choking on a laugh. How could she be so ridiculously turned on, practically dripping down her thighs, and yet here he was, talking about  _pancakes_? She simply could not imagine supposed bad boy Percy Jackson — piercings, tattoos, surly expression, and all — being  _domestic_  at the stove, making pancakes for his overnight guests. “What, you make breakfast for all the girls you have over?”

“Nah,” he paused to lower his mouth to her breast, laving her nipple with his tongue before sucking it deeply in his mouth. He pulled and tugging on it until she cried out, dizzy with want, her hands rendering the sheets by his shoulders. When he released it, he framed her face in his hands, directing her gaze to his; she panted, dazed, hardly remembering what they’d been talking about. “Just the girls I really,  _really_  like.”

 _Oh_ , Annabeth thought stupidly, just as his mouth crashed on to hers. There was nothing of last night’s urgency and desperation in this kiss; just passion, reverence, and enough desire to melt her bones. She shivered at the rasp of his scruff against her chin, and deepened the kiss, making him groan when she swiped her tongue into his mouth. There’d be time to process what he’d said later; right now, she needed him everywhere — between her legs, at her breasts, gripping her ass, nipping at her neck.  

Annabeth sat up and leaned over to his bed stand, reaching for the drawer that she’d seen him grab condoms out of before.

This position gave Percy ample access to her body, and by the time she’d pulled back with a string of foil packets in hand, he’d slipped two fingers inside her and busied his mouth with her other, woefully neglected nipple. She dropped the condoms on the bed and rolled her hips against him, eyes fluttering shut as the heel of his hand ground into her clit.

“ _Percy_ ,” she moaned, shocked by how close she felt to coming already. She could feel his fingers inside her, rubbing and thrusting against a spot that made her thighs shake and her eyes want to roll back in her head. He kept rubbing, kept thrusting, kept building her up until Annabeth thought she would combust. “Oh, god. Oh — !”  

Her orgasm crackled through her, electric and fierce in its suddenness. She opened her eyes after she came down and couldn’t help but laugh at the smug smirk that, once again, had crossed Percy’s lips. He  _liked_  her. She could barely believe it.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she said before she lowered her mouth to his, determined to kiss that smirk right off his face. “I was just thinking we might get around to seven after all.”

She fumbled for a condom, slightly distracted by Percy’s fingers circling her clit, but got the package opened and turned to roll it on. His cock was hard as steel, straining toward her, tip glistening with a hint of precum. Annabeth stroked him slowly, twisting her hand the way she knew would tease a strung out moan from him. She thought about taking him into her mouth, about showing him that he wasn’t the  _only_  one who take the other apart with their lips and tongue, but she decided she would save that for later, after Percy growled her name, pure, male frustration in his tone.

“ _Annabeth_ ,” he said again, thrusting into her hand. “I wanna fuck you.  _Now_.”

“I didn’t hear a  _please_ ,” she said primly, rolling the condom over him. She straddled his hips and positioned his cock at her entrance, but didn’t move, looking up at him expectantly through her riot of curls. The orgasm had taken the edge off her need, giving her patience and a plan. “Well?”

He arched his pierced eyebrow at her, surprised by the question. Percy, she knew, was the sort of man who made his partners beg, and probably didn’t do much pleading himself. Asking for a simple  _please_  was hardly full on begging, but she wondered if his stubbornness would hold him back anyway.

Percy leaned back into his pillows, settling his hands on her hips. “You think you’re gonna ride me this time, Chase?”

She knew the look in his face, the self-assured, slightly patronizing  _oh, it’s cute you think you’re charge_  look. Men had been giving her that look since she started dressing nicely in high school, when they’d assumed her sweet-looking appearance matched her personality. Percy had spent the night dominating her, obviously hung up on some  _bad boy corrupting a good girl_  fantasy of his, which Annabeth had enjoyed immensely. She might not be as experienced as him, but Annabeth has never been a  _good girl_  and it was time he learned it.

“Again, only if you ask nicely,” she said, rolling her hips, letting her dripping folds slide over his cock. He bit back a curse and bucked against her, though it did no good; she had lifted herself off of him as soon as the teasing stroke had passed. “Do you want to me to fuck you or not, Jackson?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he hissed, hands tightening on her hips. He swallowed, glancing up at the ceiling before looking back at her, and Annabeth knew she’d won this contest. “Fuck me, Annabeth.  _Please_.”

She saved his ego another smart ass comment, instead sinking on to him inch-by-slow-inch. She was a little sore from last night, but once he was fully inside her and she started to move, the soreness quickly transformed into pleasure. Annabeth kept the rhythm slow and unhurried, watching the slow flush that spread over Percy’s tattooed chest and loving each sound she drew out of his mouth.

He tried to hurry her along, using his hands to push her hips down harder, but Annabeth peeled them off and pushed them above his head. She held his hands down, letting their fingers interlace; she didn’t miss the way he throbbed inside her at the movement and leaned over to murmur in his ear, “Percy.  _I’m_  fucking you, remember?”

Percy laughed, meeting her eyes and looking at her like she was the best thing he’d ever seen. No one had ever looked at her like that before, Annabeth realized with a thrill. His fingers flexed under hers and he arched up to kiss her, his lips steady and smooth against hers. “You sure are something, Chase.”

Annabeth smiled, flushing at the compliment in spite of herself. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

She kept moving, kept riding him, increasing her pace every time a guttural  _fuck_  or  _damn it Annabeth!_ fell from his lips. Sweat rolled down her back, her chest heaved and her thighs were burning, trembling from a tidal wave of an orgasm that’s been building and building since she slid on to him. She moaned a needy, “ _More_ ,” and let go of his hands, reaching for his shoulders and burying her face in his chest; Percy, bless him, instantly reached for her breasts, squeezing and kneading them, giving her just enough sensation to push her over the edge.

His name tore from her lips as she trembled, pulsing around him, trying to draw him deeper inside her as her orgasm rolled through her. She cried out as Percy’s hips slammed into hers, his breathing ragged as he worked to find his own release, fingers digging into her flesh. He followed her down after a few more rough thrusts, body shuddering underneath hers in climax.

Annabeth panted into the crook of his neck, feeling Percy’s chest rise and fall under her as they lay in the afterglow, spent and satisfied. Percy’s hand played with her curls, tracing them over her back gently, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. It was a painfully intimate moment, a painfully  _sweet_  moment for the morning after a one night stand, and she let herself soak in it for as long as possible. It was almost as good as the cuddling from this morning.

But like all things, it couldn’t last.

“So,” Percy said eventually, his voice quiet. She lifted her head and met his gaze, noticing the playful gleam in his green eyes, “I take it you’re staying for pancakes, then?”

Or, maybe it could.


	4. officially

Three months after they start  _officially_  dating, Percy clears out his closet for her. It speaks volumes about Annabeth’s sense of romance, but she thinks it’s probably the sweetest thing he’s ever done for her. Much better than flowers and cute date nights. Other girls get drawers at their boyfriend’s apartments; she gets a  _closet_.

“Figured you might as well keep some of your stuff over here,  _officially,_  especially since I keep finding stuff all over the place. You’ve been saying I don’t use the space properly, so I figured…” Percy grumbles, leaning against the closet doorway, an embarrassed flush appearing on his face at her exclamation of absolute delight when she discovers the shelves he put in for her. “ _Anyway_ , I’m tired of you getting up at the asscrack of dawn so you can get back to your place and get ready. You can do that here now.”

Even though Annabeth spends the majority of her time in his apartment rather than her dorm room these days, Percy doesn’t ask her to move in,  _officially_. She’s all right with that, since they’re both hesitant to take that step, though the closet is a move in the right direction.

Percy, undoubtedly, has other motivations besides regaining lost sleep to have her around in the mornings. It doesn’t take her long to figure out  _what_  those motivations are – not when he can’t keep his hands off of her the mornings she stays over.

The first week alone, Annabeth finds herself moaning out an orgasm in the steam of the shower, Percy hot, hard, and throbbing inside her; bent over the bathroom vanity, curling iron forgotten in favor of keeping Percy’s mouth pressed firmly on her clit; coming around Percy’s fingers after he hikes the dress she just put on up around her hips and pushed the fabric of her panties aside. Percy just has such a  _thing_  about mussing her up and making her impeccable appearances unravel; she should’ve figured that would extend to interfering while she’s getting dressed.

Annabeth’s sure parading back and forth from her closet to the bathroom in her lingerie has done its part in motivating Percy to give her as many orgasms as humanly possible before 10 a.m. as well. Sure, she’s a bit of a tease, but she loves the way his eyes track her movements from the bed, tracing the lines of her garter belt, lingering on her lace covered breasts and ass, eagerly watching her roll her stockings up her legs.

This morning, he only lets her get one sheer stocking clipped in place before drops to his knees in front of her and puts his mouth on her cunt, tongue stroking her over the lace. Her panties are soon discarded. Annabeth’s knees get weaker with each pass of his tongue and pull of his lips, and she barely makes it to the edge of the bed before her back is bowing, hands fisting in his comforter as she cries out in pleasure.

“ _Percy_ ,” she pleads, her toes curling against his tattooed back as he works he through her orgasm. “I really,  _oh god_ , have to go this morning. I can’t –  _ungh_.”

Percy works a slow finger inside her just as his mouth pulls away from her with an obscenely wet noise and he glances up at her, expression entirely too innocent for what he just did to her.

“How about one more, Annabeth?”

“ _No_ ,” she growls, though she doesn’t really mean it. Her hips rock with the rhythm of his thrusting finger and,  _god_ , does it feel good. “Because one more always turns into two or  _three_  more, and then I’ll… then I’ll be  _late_  and it’ll be your fault.”

“You sure?” he asks, his breath warm against her heaving stomach. His finger pulls out of her, but stays close, circling the entrance to her soaking cunt, teasing her. “It really will be one more this time. Scout’s honor.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “I highly doubt  _you_  were a Boy Scout.”

A grin lights up his face and his green eyes sparkle “Guess you’ll just have to find out, won’t you?”

Annabeth huffs at the challenge and then glances at the clock on the nightstand. She still has an hour and half to get to class, and it won’t take her  _too_  long to finish getting ready, so long as she doesn’t mess up her hair. She sits up straighter and then widens her legs.

“Fine,” she says imperiously. “ _One_  more. But make it quick, Jackson, None of your teasing bulls – ”

She lets a sharp gasp swallow the last word, wicked pleasure streaking through her body as Percy’s mouth returns to her folds and his fingers slid inside her. Each and every one of his movements is fiercely calculated and devastatingly effective, all designed to stoke the warmth inside her into a blazing wildfire. Annabeth moans loudly when Percy’s fingertips stroke over a sensitive spot inside her and, again, a moment later when his tongue dances across her clit; her hands scramble for purchase on comforter as sinks back on the bed, unable to stay upright a moment longer as he unleashes that combination on her over and  _over_.

Her hips arch off the bed as his fingers begin to firmly thrust into her, grazing over that spot each time, and her thighs begin to tremble as he pushes her closer to the edge.

She cries out when his mouth abruptly leaves her and the rhtythm of his fingers falter for just a moment, but then he’s on the bed with her, hovering over her, cupping her cheek with his free hand.

“Annabeth,” he murmurs, watching her intensely. “Come when I say so. All right?”

She nods, whimpering desperately, and clutches his hand tight in hers. She can’t endure much more than this, and mercifully, Percy sends her flying apart with whispered command and a kiss moments later. Every inch of her body shivers as intense waves of pleasure roll through her and she falls back on the bed, limp, sated, and panting.

“You Boy Scouty  _ass_ ,” she manages after several minutes, once her heart decides it is not going to burst from her chest and her mind comes back down to earth. “Stop being so  _good_  at giving out orgasms. Now I’m too tired to go to class and it’s  _all your fault_.”

Beside her, Percy throws his head back and laughs, drawing her into his embrace.

“Sorry,” he says, though he doesn’t look sorry in the slightest. “I can try to be fucking awful next time?”

“For both our sake’s, please do,” she replies, shooting him a mock serious expression. She can only hold it for a moment before she launches into her own set of giggles, burying her face in his chest. He smells faintly of salt and sea, and she basks in his closeness for several long moments. “You’re just lucky it’s only review day in my morning class. You better keep your hands off me this afternoon. I didn’t agree to be continually and amazingly  _ravished_  when I moved my stuff into the closet.”

“Oh? It was in the small print of the lease,” Percy says, leaning back confidentially into the pillows. “The  _very_  small print.”

Annabeth arches an eyebrow. She shifts in his arms, sitting up and swinging a leg over his hips to straddle him. He’s bare but for blue briefs, which are pulled tight around his straining erection, and Percy swallows heavily as her wet center slides against the ridges of his stomach. She leans forward, all seduction in lace and messy blonde curls. 

“And what, pray tell, does the  _very_  small print say about returning the favor?”


	5. style

“Why do these shirts have to have so many damn  _buttons_?”

Annabeth rolls her eyes at Percy’s grunt of frustration from within his dressing room, drumming her fingers on the wooden arm of her chair impatiently. “Oh,  _please_. They’re not any worse than any of your other button ups. Just because they actually have sleeves and a distinct lack of safety pins…”

"Ridiculous,” he grumbles again, his voice echoing his displeasure. “And do I  _really_ have to tuck it in?”

"Yes, Percy. You really do,” she replies, exasperated. She’s thankful that no other customers have come into the dressing rooms and witnessed her boyfriend acting like a petulant five-year-old. If he hadn’t wanted her help to shop for a suit, he shouldn’t have asked in the first place. “Just be glad I didn’t pick out a vest for you to try on, too.”

Percy says nothing in response to this, though she can imagine he’s scowling in her direction from the other side of the door. She hears his belt jingle as he secures it around his waist, followed by a clatter as a hanger is knocked to the floor and another muffled round of swearing. Annabeth sighs, probably a little too loudly and pointedly, and checks her phone, firing off a few texts to Reyna and Piper to keep herself amused.

“You’re gonna have to help me with the tie,” Percy says over the sound of his dressing room door unlatching and swinging upon. “Fuck if I know how to put one on.”

Annabeth resists the urge to comment about his foul language as she tucks her phone back into her purse. She glances over at his dressing room once more and – oh,  _hello_ Percy Jackson.

Despite the scowl her boyfriend sports as he adjusts the collar of his dress shirt in the three-way mirror, Percy wears the midnight blue suit she’d selected for him like a second skin. He’s all clean, tight lines and gorgeous angles, especially from behind. She knew Percy could cut an impressive figure if he dumped his baggy shirts, but nothing like  _this_. Sweet lord, those  _shoulders_ alone…

“Well?” Percy said, turning around for her inspection. “How’s it look?”

 _Unbelievable_ , Annabeth thinks, leisurely dragging her eyes up from his shiny dress shoes toward his face. Every piece of the suit fits looks impeccable on him; the color suits his dark hair and tan skin, and the fit is even better from the front. She’s plenty used to Percy’s skinny jeans, but the snug tailoring of his dress pants is inspiring plenty of lust-filled thoughts on its own. His tie is loose around his neck, where the top button of the light blue dress shirt is undone, giving him just a touch of his trademark dishevelment.

“You look – you look – ”

Impossibly handsome. Downright delicious. Professional, dapper, suave…

“I look what, Annabeth?” he prompts again, propping his hands on his waist, inadvertently sweeping the edges of suit jacket back in one devastatingly smooth motion. Oh, she is in trouble. He doesn’t even know  _how_  to  _wear_ a suit properly, and he’s already doing  _that_? She is so entirely  _doomed_.

“ _Hngh_ ,” she says, causing Percy to quirk a pierced brow in her direction. She clears her throat, feeling a blush beginning to crawl up her cheeks, and sits up straighter in her chair. “You look  _perfect_.”

A faint hint of color rises on Percy’s cheeks, but he looks pleased with her response. “Even without the tie?”

“Even without the tie,” Annabeth echoes, getting to her feet. “Here, I’ll show you how to do a Windsor knot.”

Percy makes a face as she steps into his space, reaching for him. “There’s more than one way to tie a tie?  _Christ_.”

She laughs as does up his last button and straightens his collar, smoothing her hands over his collar bones. She reaches for the tie next, loops the ends of the material over each other easily and creating the knot.

“We should get you a couple different ties, too,” she says as she pushes the knot up to his neck, making a few minute adjustments. “A thinner tie with a vest would look fantastic with your skinny jeans, and, oh, a bowtie! You have to get one of those.”

She buttons up his jacket, smoothing the edges out, and then turns Percy back to the mirror, where even he seems to ( _finally_!) be impressed by the finished product. He turns side to side, examining himself, and runs a hand through his messy hair. The movement makes Annabeth’s knees week. Oh, does he have any idea what he’s doing to her right now?

“Well, whaddya know,” he says after a long moment. “I clean up all right after all.”

“God, do you ever,” she blurts out, and Percy shoots her an amused smirk. “What? I like men in suits, all right? I especially like  _you_  in a suit. You don’t have a clue, do you? You look good enough to – to – ”

Annabeth loses track of her words as Percy’s big hand settles against her neck and he tilts her chin upward so he can thoroughly kiss her. She sighs into his mouth, sliding her arm under his jacket and to his back to press him closer to her, and responds in kind.

“So what you’re saying,” Percy murmurs against her lips in-between kisses, “is that I need to buy this suit, yeah?”

“Mhmm,” Annabeth replies, eyes fluttering shut as his talented fingers caress the sensitive spot at the back of her neck and his mouth begins to move along her jaw. Her hands curls into the material of his dress shirt, her pulse quickening.

“And when we get home,” he continues, his voice deepening with sensuous promise, causing heat to pool between her thighs, “I’ll need to put it on and fuck you senseless in it, right?”

She gasps as he kisses her again, the hunger and desire for her obvious in his touch, and her mind whirls with debauched images his words have created – Annabeth, on her knees, pulling Percy’s cock from his trousers and taking him in her mouth; bent over her desk, moaning as he fucks her from behind; hands lashed together with that new tie of his, helpless as his mouth blazes a tortuously slow trail down her stomach; his jacket draped over her shoulders as she rides him, making him beg for to go faster,  _please go faster Annabeth_. Fuck, she wants it – wants  _him_ , in all those ways and more.

A satisfied smirk appears on his lips when he lets go and pulls away, as if he knows exactly where her thoughts have wandered.

Dear god, she’s created a monster. A very handsome and debonair monster, but a monster all the same.

“If you can get this on without my help,” she replies, proud that her voice is only  _slightly_ breathless with lust. She tugs on his tie pointedly. “You can have me any way you want me.”

Percy grins, and backs toward his dressing room, unbuttoning the suit jacket slowly,  _tauntingly_  as he went. Damn him. “I think you’re going to regret saying that, Chase.”

She tosses her hair over her shoulder, returning his grin with a confident smile of her own. “I guess we’ll just have to find out, now won’t we, Jackson?”


	6. bow tie

Percy was in no way certain how he had been talked into attending a sorority formal, let alone while wearing a ludicrous bow tie. 

Okay, so he probably wasn’t being entirely truthful. He knew exactly how he’d been talked into the bow tie; it was exactly how he’d been talked into his dark blue dress shirt and neatly pressed charcoal slacks, and it didn’t involve much talking. Just Annabeth and her four magic words: “Wear this for me?”

He’d yet to discover an effective way of saying  _no_  to her when she said that. He probably never would, so long as she kept asking him while she had on some lacy scrap of lingerie or had sex mussed hair and kiss swollen lips. She played dirty, that girlfriend of his, and Percy — being the giant sucker he was for Annabeth’s, well,  _everything_  — always fell for it.

So, yeah, the bow tie had been a bit of an easy sell for her. The formal? Not so much.

Given that Percy’s general reaction to anything Greek life related was to flee in the opposite direction, securing him as her date to Alpha Beta and Delta Nu’s spring formal had been a bit of a challenge. In Percy’s opinion, the formal was a waste of their time. If he was gonna spend a weekend out of the city with Annabeth at a swanky hotel, he wasn’t gonna do it without a busload of frat douchebags and their asshole girlfriends along for the ride. How was he supposed to romance her properly without worryin’ some dick in salmon colored pants might swoop in and ruin the moment, huh?

But,  _for whatever reason_ , the formal was important to Annabeth. Even if he bitched up a storm about it, in the end, Percy cared about what was important to her. It was well past time him to step outside his comfort zone. God knew how many dive bars and shady venues with sticky floors Annabeth had to suffer through to watch his band play since they started dating. The least he could do was wear that suit she’d bought him and go dancing with her for a weekend.

And once he saw the little gold number she was planning on wearing? Like  _hell_  was he staying home and letting some asshat pledge get near her. 

Sweet mercy. He’d wear bow ties every damn day to get under  _that_  skirt.


End file.
